Monster
by Aria White
Summary: A word can be a powerful thing. Oneshot.


It was a brisk winter morning in Paris, and Quasimodo had just finished ringing in the morning mass. Morning masses were by far his favorite to conduct. The boisterous sounds of the larger bells cheerily wake everyone for worship, while the softer, smaller bells gently settle them into a quiet prayer.

The hunchback weaved between the bells with exceptional ease, swinging on ropes and navigating through the rafters. He enjoyed his home in the top of the bell tower as much as any man could, though he wasn't allowed to leave the secluded haven. Sometimes he found it lonesome, but at least he had the Gargoyles to keep him company.

A rough, aged voice echoed in the chasm, harshly disrupting the sweet traces of sound left by the iron bells.

"Quasimodo! It is time for breakfast. You wouldn't want to keep your master waiting, would you boy?"

The hunchback's eyes widened, and he quickly hopped down from the rafters. He couldn't help but cringe slightly in fear and reverence, even after all these years. The voice belonged to none other than Judge Claude Frollo, who took Quasimodo in when he was a child. He believed that the judge was a kind man, albeit an intimidating one. Frollo was an incredibly tall and thin man, with no signs that laughter had ever appeared on his face, only frown lines.

Frollo took a seat at Quasimodo's craft table, which held a miniature version of Paris. The model contained all that one could see from the bell tower at Notre Dame. There was the square below, the bakery, the butchery, and a corner occupied by the gypsies. Quasimodo had even sculpted the citizens below with astonishing detail, acquired by years of observation. The hunchback gathered the dished from the stand by his bed, watching forlornly as his master brushed away his model citizens. He set the dishes out on the table: an ebony chalice and plate for his master, and a wooden slab and carpenter's cup for himself.

"Shall we review our alphabet today, Quasimodo?" said Frollo.

Quasimodo rubbed his large hands together.

"Oh…Yes Master, I would like that very much," he replied, unenthused.

The judge laid a picnic basket on top of the fabric making up the square below Notre Dame. He retrieved a book from the basket, and set it open on the table.

"A."

Quasimodo concentrated, searching for the right word.

"A…abomination."

"B."

"Blasphemy."

"C."

"Contrition."

"D."

"Damnation."

"E"

Normally Quasimodo struggled with E, but today he was ready.

"Eternal Damnation," the hunchback said, proud that he had remembered.

"Good, F."

"Feculence."

"G."

"Godliness."

"H."

"Hellfire."

"I"

"Indecency."

"J"

"Jealousy."

"K"

Quasimodo had to concentrate again, focusing on the silent K.

"Er, knowledgeable."

"Good, L."

"Loathing."

"M"

The hunchback remained quiet for a moment. He knew the word well, but he didn't like to say it aloud. To his chagrin, the pause did not go unnoticed.

"M," Frollo repeated, scowling.

"M…monster," Quasimodo murmured.

Frollo turned up his nose.

"You need to be quicker, boy. How many times have we gone over this list?"

"Many times, master."

"You've done rather well up until this point. For that, I will not make you start over. We will continue with N. Proceed."

It took a second for Quasimodo to gather his wits, but he knew the second half of the list much better than the first.

"Noble."

"O."

"Our father."

"P."

"Psalms."

"Q."

"Querulous."

"R."

"Reverent."

"S."

"Sacred."

"T."

"Temptation."

"U."

"Underworld."

"V."

"Venerable."

"W."

"Weakness."

"X."

"Exodus."

"Y."

"Your grace."

"Z."

"Zealot."

Frollo nodded and smacked the book shut.

"Well done, Quasimodo. You have certainly earned your breakfast this morning."

The judge produced a set of grapes and cornmeal, and handed them to the hunchback. Quasimodo eagerly dug in, having not eaten since lunch the previous day. Frollo popped one of his own grapes into his mouth, drumming the table with his spider fingers.

"We'll need to go over M a bit more, though."

Quasimodo stopped his chewing, daring to sneak a glance at his master. The man's eyes were cloaked by the rafter's shadows, the sunlight only reaching his mouth, which had twisted into a cruel smile.

"It's an important word to be familiar with."

The rest of the meal went on silently, with Quasimodo holding back tears by ripping into the cornmeal. Frollo stood up slowly when he finished, bidding a good day. He exited down the stairs and into the dark hallway below, smirking all the while.

Quasimodo left the dishes on the table, and stepped over to the window. He put his chin on his palm and gazed wistfully at the morning scene below, relishing the chilling air from the winter gale. People of all sorts hurried about, not bothering to greet one another. It was too chilly to stop for pleasantries. Children bundled up in winter coats and scarves played by the bakery, no doubt taking in the wonderful smells.

The hunchback sniffled and wiped one of the tears he managed to keep back at the table.

"Trust me master," he murmured to no one in particular, "I'm familiar with it."

A/N: I've always wondered what words Frollo chose for the rest of the alphabet. That's pretty much what spawned this drabble.

Did I achieve the emotion I was going for in this piece? I'd like to hear your thoughts and critiques.


End file.
